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The trails wander into the hills. The hills reveal
>shape and rhythm; a singular life pulse to choking
>dust; a suspension of the hours. He expects
>revelation. He
>expects the earth to devour him. An ancient plain or a
>IMG SRC="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v463/mnaz/
>blackrock10.jpg" width="250" align="left"> jumpoff
>stretched over rare tint. Midwinter solar bliss or
>midsummer theater of hell, and every path between.
>His road always leads back. The great circle-- earth
>meets sky-- is unfettered here. Light and silence are
>not the only rewards. You can pick up the earth's
>unmasked sculpture at any point. Trails deftly thread
>endless fashionings of high and low; gentle rise and
>fall or glorious chaotic form; a full-scale radiant
>relief map. Exhibits of the planet's shape are
>unsurpassed in the desert.
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